


Put Your Hand There

by WhyDoIWrite



Series: Flashback Fridays [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: CONCACAF, F/F, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hotel Rooms, Long-Distance Relationship, Olympic Qualifiers, Shy gays, Teammates who kiss, That touch, Thighs, USWNT, falling for your best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDoIWrite/pseuds/WhyDoIWrite
Summary: Emily didn't need to put her hand there.  But she did.  And now Lindsey can't stop thinking about it.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Series: Flashback Fridays [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747891
Comments: 7
Kudos: 170





	Put Your Hand There

Emily's always been nervous around Lindsey. Lindsey is well aware of this. It's a joke really, going on four years now.

Emily still tenses up when Lindsey touches her.

Lindsey being near her means that Emily's eyes are locked only on her and no one else. At first, it was noticeable in only a couple of photos. But now that's become a joke, too. Almost every picture snapped of them together has the same theme - Lindsey is looking at the camera and Sonnett is looking at Lindsey. 

Lindsey is the best at eliciting that shy Sonny smile. 

Lindsey calls Emily Sonnett her best friend, but what kind of gay would Emily be if she didn't fall for a best friend at least once?

Everyone harassed Sonnett about being in love with Lindsey for so long that it actually got boring when nothing happened between them, for the team at least.

It's never been boring for Lindsey. She loves that she makes Emily twitch and shiver and squirm with just a small touch. She loves the attention that Sonnett pays her. She loves being the only one that can make Sonny smile _like that._ Lindsey has a boyfriend, but she has none of those things with him. Emily's different. Emily makes her feel appreciated. Special. Loved. Worthy. Sexy. No one's ever made her feel those things. Maybe Lindsey should put an end to all of it, all of the touchiness. Maybe she should have a long time ago. But the more she's touched Sonnett over the years, the more comfortable Sonnett has become with touching her. Lindsey needs to be touched. She needs to be cuddled when she's sad. She needs to be hugged tight when she's scared. She needs someone to rub her back when its sore. She needs someone rub her head when she's tired but can't sleep. Emily is all of those things for her.

Lindsey can't recall that many times roles have been reversed and she's been the one who's nervous around Emily. 

Maybe the first time she invited herself to Emily's apartment, but Emily was so nervous that on the way to the dinner table, she dropped the plates of food she had cooked and they had to order take-out, so Lindsey quickly forgot about that funny feeling in her stomach.

And there was that time after the World Cup when Emily was dancing in her sports bra and Lindsey got another funny feeling - in her chest that time. It was strange. It shouldn't have happened. She'd seen Emily in less before. And, well, Emily dances every chance she gets, so it wasn't that either...

But tonight... tonight sitting on the bus next to Emily, Lindsey finds herself nervous. Exceptionally nervous. Like so nervous that even though she's tired, her body is too stiff to lean over and rest her head on Sonny's shoulder. Which is also strange. She always rests her head on Sonny's shoulder on the way back from games. Tonight should not be different. Except for...

Except for tonight, when they were posing for a team photo, when Lindsey, innocently enough, put her hands on Sonnett's and Rose's hands, albeit over their knees, Sonnett put her hand... somewhere else. On Lindsey's inner thigh. _High_ on Lindsey's inner thigh. _Waaaaayyy_ on Lindsey's _inner_ thigh. And then Emily adjusted her hand, just a little bit, maybe an inch... or less... so her hand wasn't _so_ far on Lindsey's inner thigh. The adjustment wasn't helpful, feeling the pads of Emily's fingers drag across her thigh. And that hand stayed on her thigh. _So_ far up her thigh. It felt different. It wasn't butterflies in her stomach. It wasn't a pressure in her chest. But it also wasn't unfamiliar. And maybe that's the problem right now. Lindsey knew exactly what she felt when Sonnett touched her... _there_ , when Sonnett softly slid her hand over just a bit... _there_. So really, how could Lindsey _not_ be tense right now? 

_Fuck_. Emily is pulling Lindsey's head down onto her shoulder so she can rest for the remainder of the bus ride. Now Lindsey's left thinking about Emily's soft hand on her inner thigh while she's leaning against Emily. Lindsey would simultaneously like to stop thinking about that moment and never stop thinking about that moment ever again. _Fuck fuck_.

* * *

Lindsey is short with Kelley when they finally arrive back at their room. No, she doesn't want snacks. No, she doesn't want to get caught up on all of the episodes of The Circle that they've missed. No she doesn't want to pack when she can do it in the morning. No, she doesn't want to FaceTime Alex with her. No, she doesn't want to go to sleep. She's not tired. She's frustrated and confused. She's anxious and worried. What if she waited too long? What if Sonnett doesn't have feeling for her anymore? What if she never did? What if that's just how Sonnett is? What if Sonnett isn't willing to jeopardize their friendship, or her place on the team even, now that she's getting good minutes. Lindsey tosses the covers aside dramatically and Kelley gives her _a look_. She pads down the hall towards Abby and Sonnett's room. She doesn't know why. She doesn't know what shes's going to do when she gets there. But before she realizes it, she standing there. So she knocks. 

After what seems like an eternity to Lindsey, Abby answers the door. She's on the phone with her boyfriend, and she looks a little annoyed, probably because Sonnett made her answer the door, Lindsey thinks. Abby's about to be a lotta annoyed. 

Lindsey hands Abby her room key, but Abby doesn't budge, still blocking the doorway. "Can you go be Kelley's roommate tonight, please." She didn't mean for it to come out like that, as a very obvious statement, not a question. But right now, she really can't handle people. Abby plucks the key from Lindsey's fingers, but not without giving Lindsey _a look_ first. "Thanks, Claire," Lindsey mumbles. The teasing's going to be fucking bad in the morning, Lindsey knows.

As Lindsey steps into the room, the door closes behind her with a startlingly loud thud. It brings Sonnett out of the bathroom. Well, her head, at least, enough of her that Lindsey can see she's in the middle of brushing her teeth. Sonnett gives her _a look_ , too. _Why is everyone looking at me like that_ , she wants to ask. _Can they tell? Are my feelings on my face or something_?

A moment later, Sonnett is emerging from the bathroom, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, which is tucked inside the sleeve of a soft gray tee. And she's wearing those gray and pink plaid flannel pj pants that Lindsey bought her at Target when they played in Chicago last year and it was unexpectedly cold. Emily had complained about not having anything that was both warm and comfy to sleep in. So they hopped on the Green Line and into downtown Chicago they went, and it was nice, because they got to hear a girl with a beautiful voice singing some John Legend in the L station while they waited forever long for their delayed train. And they detoured and saw Chicago's version of a beach, which was far more pathetic than an Oregon beach, and that was not an opinion marked by bias or cold. Replaying that whole afternoon in her head at that moment was a good move, Lindsey thought, because it distracted her, at least momentarily, from her best friend, her very comfy looking, very sleepy looking, very cute looking best friend.

"Where's Abby?" Emily asks, sounding quite unconcerned, as she turns her back to Lindsey to finish folding the last of the clothes she needs to pack. CONCACAF is over. They're all dispersing in the morning. They'll have a couple of weeks to themselves. And that sounds like absolute torture to Lindsey right now, given the fact that her brain feels like it's on fire right now. Lindsey ignores the question, and Emily doesn't seem to notice, focused instead on perfectly folding her KITH tee and adding it to a stack of at least a dozen other equally perfectly folded tees. They've been gone for so long, between Texas and California, and Lindsey had all the time in the world to feel what she's feeling now. But of course she waited to feel something.

Lindsey sits down the edge of Emily's bed, watching until Emily finishes and closes her suitcase, standing it up. She turns to see Lindsey sitting on her bed, wringing her hands, and Emily sits on top of her suitcase as she studies Lindsey. She squints and knits her brows together. _Why does she have to be so fucking cute right now_ , Lindsey wants to scream.

"You had a really good game tonight, Linds. You had a really good tournament," Sonnett says softly.

For once, Lindsey doesn't want to talk soccer. She loved being on the field at the same time as her best friend, it's been such a rare occurrence when they're playing for their country, but that's a distant thought for her right now. It shouldn't be; the two of them have spent countless hours in Portland talking about eventually being consistent starters together, just like they are - or were, rather - in Portland. But it's not what's on Lindsey's mind. "Em," she pats the bed next to her, "come sit with me." 

Hesitantly, Emily moves across the room to sit next to her, both staring straight ahead at the door instead of looking at each other. They're too close. They're always too close, but alone in this hotel room, their closeness is instantly magnified. And suddenly Lindsey is very aware of everything - her heart pounding in her ears, her breathing which is too labored for an athlete sitting on a bed, her sweaty palms rubbing against her shorts, the heat where their bodies are touching. She wonders if Emily can tell that something is different, that _she's_ different. She wants to ask Emily why, why Emily touched her _there_. Like _that_. Why is not what comes out of her mouth. Nothing almost comes out of her mouth, because in the back of her mind, Lindsey fears that anything she could possibly say right now would be a big mistake. And Lindsey is _not_ brave. 

But then she hears her own voice squeak out, "Put your hand there again." Emily finally looks at her as the seconds tick by. Lindsey's afraid that Emily's going to make her say it - repeat it, clarify it, explain it, something - and she really, _really_ doesn't want to.

Slowly, Emily lifts her hand off of her own thigh. 

Slowly, she moves her hand towards Lindsey, stopping midair to think about it.

Slowly, she places her hand in the exact same spot it sat hours ago for a photo op. 

Too far in.

With a tiny adjustment back. 

Too high. 

Too tender. 

Too hot on Lindsey's bare skin.

"There?" Emily asks quietly, eyes fixated on her hand instead of on Lindsey's face, so she doesn't see Lindsey gulp, doesn't see her tiny nod. In the silence, she's forced to look up for some sort of confirmation. 

Emily's eyes are hooded, so shy, so uncertain, but Lindsey's mouth has gone dry and she doesn't think she could even croak anything out in the moment. She nods again, and this time, Emily sees. With that confirmation, Emily looks down again and barely starts moving just the tips of her fingers against Lindsey's skin. It leaves goosebumps all over Lindsey's exposed skin. They sit like that and minute after minute passes by.

"Lindsey," Emily murmurs, and Lindsey really wishes Emily hadn't broken the silence right in that moment. "Where else do you want me to put my hand?" 

Lindsey thinks she might be losing her mind right about now, but she covers Emily's hand with her own and places their hands together, over her heart, which is really, really damn close to being on her breast. Emily shifts, tucking a leg under her body so she can partially face Lindsey, and Lindsey closes her eyes as Emily presses her palm into Lindsey's chest. Emily's fingers spreading, barely onto her breast, cause Lindsey to draw in a sharper breath than she had intended to. 

Emily keeps her hand there until Lindsey's breathing has evened out. She might have to wait forever for Lindsey's pulse to slow down, and forever is too long. Emily interlaces their fingers tighter, and brings their hands to Lindsey's face. Lindsey sighs and drops her hand to Emily's lap. Emily lets her fingers pass over Lindsey's cheek, behind her ear, along her jawline and then to the back of her neck. 

"Em," Lindsey whispers in almost a whine.

"Where do you want me to put my lips?" Emily asks hoarsely in Lindsey's ear. It's like the nervousness is slowly fading from Emily's body with every touch, with every minute Lindsey stays, doesn't run, doesn't stop her. Like maybe it was just Emily's persona, not who she was at her core. Maybe at her core, she was in love with Lindsey, knew she was in love with Lindsey, and never acted because Lindsey was her teammate and her friend and wasn't single.

And then her lips brush Lindsey's ear and Lindsey melts into her, a mess of cheeks and bodies and hands. And then lips. Lindsey's lips are on Emily's and Emily's lips are soft and sweet and her breath, as they separate ever-so-slightly between kisses, is minty.

Emily feels so familiar to Lindsey, her hands, her skin, her scent, her smiling eyes, every bit of her body that Lindsey touches. It's all like home. Even her lips, her perfect lips, that Lindsey had never thought about until tonight, feel like home. But what Lindsey feels deep in her soul is markedly different from anything she's every felt before. And the beauty of it is that this new feeling isn't even a little bit scary.

Finally Emily pulls away for real, even though Lindsey has Emily's t-shirt in her fists, trying to keep her there, so afraid that if she lets go, what they just shared will fade away like a dream in the early morning hours. "You have a boyfriend," Emily says quietly, calmly, as she looks straight into Lindsey's eyes, almost apologetically. "We can't."

Lindsey swallows hard. "I'll break up with him. I want you. I want to be with you."

"Even thought I'm going to be all the way across the country from you?" Emily sounds so dejected and Lindsey pulls her into her chest tightly. 

"Even with you all the way across the country. That doesn't matter," she says into Emily's hair.

"Ok." It's all Emily says. She doesn't ask how they're going to make it work. She doesn't ask what this means for who Lindsey is. She doesn't ask when Lindsey's going to break up with Russell. Or how. She doesn't push Lindsey, even though Lindsey probably wouldn't mind being pushed right now.

Lindsey moves a hand to Emily's face and kisses her again, but Emily stops it almost as soon as it starts. "We have to do this the right way." 

Fucking Emily Sonnett. Good to the core. Lindsey sighs. It's too late to call Russell. "Abby's really not coming back tonight?" Emily asks, and Lindsey shakes her head. Emily scoots back onto the bed, pulling the covers back, sliding under and waiting with them lifted, expectantly, for Lindsey to crawl under with her. Emily rolls over and grabs a book off her nightstand.

"I thought you finished the series?" Lindsey asks confused.

"I did. I'm rereading it. Want me to read it to you?"

Lindsey doesn't even like Harry Potter. But she likes Emily. And she loves hearing Emily's voice. She nods and they readjust so Emily can hold Lindsey. She presses against Lindsey's back, propping herself up on one elbow, leaving the book on the bed in front of Lindsey, and throwing her arm across Lindsey's stomach. She lets her hand rest there for a moment, feeling the rise and fall in time with Lindsey's breath, feeling Lindsey's abs tighten the second she touches them, and then relax slowly. Then she thumbs through the introductory pages until she gets to the beginning of the book. Lindsey can feel Emily's breath on her hair, and her game-worn, scratchy voice is perfection. "We'll have to order the book for you tomorrow," she says before she starts. "So when you're away from me, we can take turns reading to each other. We can read the whole series," Emily suggests.

Lindsey thinks it's the best idea anyone's ever had in the history of long-distance dating ideas. She wipes the corner of her eye so Emily doesn't see the tear dangling there. Emily's trade all but broke her, but she couldn't let Emily know, not when Emily the one who was supposed to be hurt by it. Suddenly, tonight, for the first time in almost a month, Emily's trade seems bearable. "I'd like that," she chokes out, trying to steady her voice. "It'll make the time until I get to see you next fly by."

Emily kisses Lindsey's cheek and begins reading. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."


End file.
